Care Just Listen from Owen's PoV
by trombonegirl211
Summary: We know everything that happens to Annabel. Well, what about Owen? Disclaimer: I do not own Just Listen. that would be Sarah Dessen. I know I just added an update, but that does NOT mean its gonna happen again...don't get used to it.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The first day of school. Junior year. So much fun, right?

I was just bored. Going back to that school with OK teachers and kids who were scared of me, that school I had been suspended from, and hadn't been back in months. Until now.

Lunchtime. When the school breaks into the cliques, the groups of friends. I went over to the long, low wall around the courtyard. I sat down. There was one girl there, Asian, eating lunch and doing her homework. I think she's the girl Rolly likes. The one who punched him.

Another girl walked over. She was average height, with blonde hair. She probably had blue eyes, but I couldn't tell. She kept her head down as she came to the wall and sat down between me and the Asian girl. She looked frightened, busily unpacking her lunch, as though she didn't want to look up and acknowledge that she was here. She glanced around, catching eyes with that popular girl, Sophie. Sophie gave her a tight-lipped smile, as though making fun of the blonde girl. I never minded other kids' reactions to me, but I could tell about this girl: she cared.

I finally remembered the girl's name as she glanced at me. Annabel something. Greene. Annabel went back to her lunch momentarily. She didn't seem as frightened of me as most kids were. I knew I looked scary; I'm big with broad shoulders. And everyone had seen me hit that jerk Ronnie last year. Still, I hoped I didn't seem too scary, especially to Annabel. That thought took me off guard. Why was that? I felt like I wanted to get to know her. She was very pretty, but she also had this feel of the kind of person who understands you. Who will listen. Who cares.

I watched as Annabel looked at the Asian girl, looking like she wanted to say something. All of the sudden, the girl stiffened, picked up her bag, and left.

Annabel looked down quickly, and kept eating. I once again floated into my music.

When there was about 5 minutes left in lunch, I noticed Annabel stiffen, looking a red Jeep with an odd expression. No, not the Jeep, the driver. Maybe she had a crush on him. On his face, there was no hint of recollection. Finally, he pulled his car away. Annabel then turned, one hand on her mouth, and vomited in the grass behind her. Not a crush then. That guy made her sick for some reason.

She looked up. She and I were some of the last people in the courtyard. I met her eyes, and she looked away quickly. In her eyes there was confusion and fear. But I didn't think that fear was of me. I got up and walked to class.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next day, I was still thinking of Annabel. I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to help her, to be someone she could talk to. I had no idea how to do that. What if she was scared of me? Why would she want to have anything to do with me?

But still, I wanted to get to know her. It seemed like there was maybe more to her than she let everyone see.

All that week, we sat on the wall, about 6 feet apart, never speaking. Sometimes I saw her glancing at me. I wondered how she thought of me, if she was still scared. Something about our daily proximity made me think she wasn't scared. This was good.

Then on Friday, something interesting happened. I saw her talking to the guy who made her sick. She was clearly very uncomfortable. She then turned toward the building, walking as quickly as she could without attracting too much attention. I thought she would probably be sick again. I hoped she could get to the building in time, but no luck.

Sophie snapped from behind Annabel, "What was _that_?"

Annabel stopped, stiffened, and looked sicker than ever. She didn't speak, or even turn around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Annabel?" Sophie moved closer to Annabel, hatred hanging on every word. I wondered what had happened between them.

"Didn't you get enough that night? You need more or something?"

Annabel started moving again, towards the school. I was thinking, what night? What happened?

"Don't ignore me! Turn around, bitch!" It was clear that all Annabel wanted was to leave. But then, Annabel snapped. She spun around, and shoved Sophie, who stumbled. Sophie said something low to her, loathing dripping from her mouth like water. "You're a whore. Stay away from my boyfriend. Do you hear me?" I couldn't imagine Annabel as any kind of slut. What were they talking about?

Annabel walked off, and then ran to the bushes. She got sick. Not surprising, after what had just happened to her. I moved towards her.


	3. Chapter 3

**JUST LISTEN—OWEN'S VIEW**

**Chapter 3**

I grabbed her notes with one hand, reaching for her with the other. She grabbed my hand, and I helped her up. She stumbled.

"Whoa. Hold on. You better sit down." I helped her back a few steps, to the wall of the building. She slid down into a sitting position. I stood there, not sure what to do. Then I remembered the tissues in my bag. I dug around fro awhile, and finally found them, straightened them against my chest, and offered them to her.

"You can have the whole pack," I told her. "If you want."

"That's ok," she said back. Her voice was hoarse. "One is fine." I gave her the pack anyway, and she thanked me.

"No problem." And it wasn't. If anything, it was my pleasure. I didn't like to see her sick, but maybe now we could get to know each other.

"So, um." Smooth, Owen. Very smooth. "Are you okay?" She nodded and said something about how she just felt sick, she didn't know what happened. "I saw what happened," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

"Oh." She blushed. "Yeah. That was…pretty bad."

I shrugged. "Could have been worse."

"You think?"

"Sure. You could have punched her."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Its good you didn't though. Wouldn't have been worth it." I should know.

"No?"

"No. Not even if it felt good at the time. Trust me." I hope she trusts me, I thought. I want her to.

"Her phone rang, and she pulled it out, glancing at the ID. She made a face and hesitated, debating, I think, whether she would pick it up. She answered.

"Hello?" I could hear someone, Annabel's mom, I guess, say "Hi, Honey!"

I couldn't hear anymore (and I didn't want to eavesdrop). Then Annabel said "So she's not coming to pick me up?" Annabel shook her head, and ran a hand through her hair. "Mom, it's just that it's kind of late and…Its fine. I'll get a ride."

I'd never seen her talk to anyone at school. I guessed she planned on walking. No, what was I thinking? I'd give her a ride.

I winced at the thought of her meeting Mallory. Oh well. Can't be avoided. And I did want to talk to her more.

I pulled out my iPod, and looked through it. "So you need a ride," I said, not looking at her, hoping she'd say yes.

"Oh, no. It's just my sister, she's being a pain." I think that was a yes. But she did say no…but she so obviously needed a ride. Because her sister was being a pain. Now where had I heard that before?

"Story of my life. Come on."


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry sorry sorry for taking so long.

**Chapter 4**

I led her to my car, moving the CDs on her seat. She reached for the busted seatbelt. I pulled out the small hammer and reached for her seatbelt. She looked a bit scared. I could only imagine what she was thinking. Then it hit me—a huge, strong guy next to her holding a hammer. I hurried to reassure her—"It's the only way it works."

I hammered in the belt. She looked amazed and doubtful, and she asked about getting out. This was one of the few things in life that is harder to get into than out of.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I turned on the music. The crickets of the song started. Mayan spiritual chants.

Of course she asked about them.

"Mayan spiritual chants. They're passed down, like oral traditions."

"Oh," she said. "Where did you get this?"

I could barely hear her; the chanting was so loud, so I turned it down. "The library at the university. I checked it out of their sound-and-culture collection."

"Ah." She glanced at the CDs in the backseat. There were hundreds. "So you must _really_ like music."

"Don't you?"

"Sure. I mean, everyone does, right?"

"No."

"No?"

I shook my head. "Some people think they like music, but they have no idea what it's really all about. They're kidding themselves. Then there are people who feel strongly about music, but just aren't listening to the right stuff. They're misguided. Then there are people like me."

Was I telling her too much? Would she think I was really weird? Or too intense?

She broke through my thoughts. "People like you," she repeated. "What kind of people are those?" Huh. Maybe she was actually interested.

Encouraged, I said, "The kind who live for music and are constantly seeking it out, anywhere they can. Who can't imagine a life without it. They're enlightened."

"Ah." It seemed to actually make sense to her.

"I mean, when you really think about it, music is the great uniter. An incredible force. Something that people who differ on everything and anything else can have in common. Plus there's the fact that music is a total constant. That's why we have such a strong visceral connection to it, you know? Because a song can take you back instantly to a moment, a place, or even a person. No matter what else changed in you or the world, that one song stays the same, just like that moment. Which is pretty amazing, when you think about it."

I've always found that so cool. And she understood. I have no idea why, but suddenly, I was amazingly, surprisingly happy that she understood.

"What I mean to say is yes, I like music."

"Got it."

I pulled into the middle school parking lot. I didn't really want her to meet my sister. Yeah, I love Mallory, but she irritates me beyond belief. "And now, I'll apologize in advance."

"Apologize for what?"

"My sister," I said, stopping. Mallory appeared outside Annabel's window. I braced myself. She shrieked. Of course.

"OMG! Its _you_!" Who else would it be? I always pick her up. Unless she was talking about Annabel. "Owen, OMG! You didn't tell me you were friends with Annabel Greene!" She was now in the backseat. But how did she know Annabel? And her shrieking was giving me a headache.

"Mallory, take it down a notch."

Annabel turned around, about to say something, but Mallory beat her to it. "This is unbelievable. I mean, its _you_!"

"Hi." Annabel looked as confused as me.

"Hi! OMG, I love your work. I really do." Understanding flashed across Annabel's face.

I was still as confused as ever. "Work?"

"Owen, come on," Mallory sighed, as if I was totally out of it to not know about Annabel's 'work'. "She's a Lakeview Model, hello? And she's done a lot of local ads. And that commercial, you know the one I love, with the girl in the cheerleading uniform?"

"No." Annabel's a model? I mean, she _is_ incredibly beautiful (did I just think that?), but a model?

"That's her! I can't believe this! I can't wait to tell Shelly and Courtney, OMG!" She grabbed her phone. "Oh! Maybe you can say hello to them, that would be so cool, and—"

This was ridiculous. "Mallory."

"Just a sec, I just want to—"  
"Mallory." She was not going to bug Annabel with her friends.

"Hold on, Owen, okay?"

Um, not okay. I took her phone. She argued more, and then gave up.

A second later, she perked back up as Annabel looked back at her. "Is that a Lanoler sweater?"

A what?

"A what?" said Annabel. Well, at least I wasn't the only one who was lost.

"This. It's gorgeous. Is it a Lanoler?" Mallory said, petting it. _Petting_ it?! My sister was bizarre.

"You know, I'm not—" Annabel was cut off again as Mallory looked at the tag of the sweater.

"It is! I knew it! OMG, I want a Lanoler sweater so _bad_, I have forever—"

I had to cut in. "Mallory, don't be a label whore."

"Owen! R and R!"

Great. She had to bring Anger Management into this. I hated doing this. "What I meant to say, Mallory, is that your focus on labels and material goods troubles me."

"Thank you. And I understand and appreciate your concern." Sure she did. "But, as you know, fashion is my life."

Annabel was confused about what had just ahppened. "R and R?"

Mallory cut in again. "Rephrase and Redirect. Its part of his Anger Management. If he says something inflammatory, you can tell him that it hurts your feelings, and he has to say it another way."

"Thank you, Mallory."

"Your welcome." She smiled at Annabel, and bounced again.

Silence for a moment.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"So I really appreciate the ride. I don't know how I would have gotten home otherwise," Annabel said.

"Its no problem. I just have to make a couple of—"

Mallory again. "I'm going to see your house?!"

"No." Absolutely not. My fashion/model obsessed sister knowing where a model lived? No, not good.

"But we're taking her home! I'm here!"

"We're dropping you off first."

"Why?"

"Because I have to go by the station, so Mom said to bring you by the store."

"But Owen--"

She was making me mad. "No buts. Its already decided."

Mallory pouted, and said dramatically, "Its so not fair."

"Life isn't fair. Get used to it."

"R and R." Not again.

"No." I turned the Mayan chants up again. Luckily, Mallory fell silent.

Then her head appeared between mine and Annabel's, and she said to Annabel, "When you did that commercial, did you get to keep the clothes?"

_Why_ did she _care_? "Mallory!"

"What?"

"Can't you just relax and enjoy the music?"

"This isn't music!" No, what isn't music is the stuff she listens to. "This is crickets and screaming." She turned to Annabel. "Owen is a total music Nazi. He won't let anyone listen to anything other than the weird stuff he plays on his radio show."

"You have a radio show?" Annabel asked me.

"It's just a local thing." I loved the radio show, but I didn't want to brag, and anyway, it wasn't a big deal. I mean, it probably wasn't a big deal to her.

"Its his _life_." Mallory is so dramatic. "He spends all week getting ready for it, worrying about it, even though its on when normal people aren't even up yet."

I was irritated. "I'm not playing for normal people. I'm playing for people who are—"

Mallory interrupted, and rolled her eyes. "Enlightened, we know. Me personally? I listen to 104Z." Ugh, I hope Annabel doesn't listen to that crap. "They play all the top-forty stuff, lots of good songs you can dance to. I like Bitsy Bonds. She's my favorite singer. I went to her concert last summer, with all my friends? It was _so_ fun. Do you know her song 'Pyramid'?"

"Um, I don't know," said Annabel. So of course Mallory had to start singing it. I winced.

"Bitsy Bongs isn't a _singer_, Mallory. She's a product. She's fake. She has no soul; she doesn't stand for anything."

"So?" She was totally missing the point.

"_So_, she's more famous for her belly button than her music."

"Well, she does have a great belly button." How can I be related to her?


	6. Chapter 6

**JUST LISTEN—OWEN'S VIEW**

**Chapter 6**

I pulled into Dreamweavers. Mallory started complaining about how she would never wear those clothes, even if she was dead. I told her she'd have bigger problems than what she was wearing if she was dead.

"Mallory. Please get out of the car." She finally left.

I pulled out. "Again, I'm sorry," I said to Annabel.

"Don't be. She's cute."

"you don't have to live with her. Or listen to her music."

"104Z. All the hits, with less of the lip."

"You listen to that station?" Please say no.

"I have before. Especially when I was in middle school."

I guessed she just hadn't had the chance to listen to good music. "It would be different if she had no access to good music. If she was deprived f culture. But I've made her tons of CDs. She just won't listen to them. Instead, she chooses to fill her head with that pop crap, listening to a station where they pretty much play the occasional song between commercials."

"So on your show, it's different."

"Well, yeah." Hadn't she been listening to what I was saying? But I think she was listening. Odd. She was actually interested. "I mean, its community radio, so there aren't commercials. But I think you should be responsible about what you're putting out for people to hear. If it can be pollution or art, why wouldn't you choose art?"

She just looked at me.

"So where do you live?"

"The Arbors. It's a few miles past the mall; you can just—"

"I know it," I said, cutting her off. "The station is just a couple of blocks from there. I have to stop in for a second, if that's okay."

I pulled up and took some of the CDs that I had to drop off inside. When I came out again, I saw Annabel talking to Rolly, who still had his helmet on.

"Hey," Rolly called to me. "I thought you had to work tonight."

"At six."

"Oh. Well, that's cool. Maybe I'll come by or something."

"Do that. And Rolly?"

"Yeah?"

"You know you still have your helmet on, right?"

Rolly's eyes widened. I felt bad for embarrassing him.

I climbed back in the car with Annabel. I felt like I owed it to Rolly to explain the helmet to Annabel.

"Its for his job. Just so you know."

"The helmet," she clarified.

"Yeah. He works at this self-defense place. He's an attacker."

"An attacker?"

"The one who people practice on. You know, once they learn the techniques. That's why he has to wear padding."

"Oh. So…you guys work together?" I guess that was a logical thing to think. Except that I had anger management problems, remember? I would probably punch them all back.

"No. I deliver pizzas." Much safer. "This is it, right?" I said, turning into the Arbors. "He does the radio show with me."

"Does he go to Jackson?"

"Nope. The Fountain School. Left or right?"

"Straight. For awhile."

Pause. Silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"So," she said, breaking through the quiet. "How'd you end up with a radio show?"

"Its something I've always been interested in." Especially after music and that odd station in Arizona saved me during the divorce. "And right after I moved here, I heard about this course they have at the station where they teach you the basics. After you take it, you can write up a show proposal. If they approve it, they give you an audition and, if they like what you do, a time slot. Me and Rolly got ours last winter. But then I got arrested. So that put us back a bit." I tried to say this comfortably, and it wasn't too hard. I'd gotten used to the idea that yes, I'd been arrested, but I'd never again. But it was hard saying that to Annabel, who, thought she had to know, didn't think of me like that. I hoped.

"You got arrested?"

She didn't know this? "Yeah. I got in a fight at a club. With some guy in the parking lot."

"Oh. Right." Maybe she did hear about it.

"You heard about it?"

"Maybe something."

"So why'd you ask?"

She flushed. "I don't know. Do you believe everything you hear?"

Why'd she blush? "No. I don't."

We drove without speaking for awhile, until she said, "It's not true, if that's what you were wondering."

What? "What isn't?"

"What you heard about me."

"I haven't heard anything about you."

"Yeah, right." What would I have heard?

"I haven't. I'd tell you if I had."  
"Really."

"Yeah." She looked doubtful. "I don't lie."

Now she looked downright incredulous. "You don't lie."

"That's what I said."

"Ever."

"Nope."

She didn't believe me. "Well, that's a good policy…if you can stick to it."

"I don't have a choice. Holding stuff in doesn't really work for me. Learned that the hard way." A mental picture of Ronnie Waterman on the ground, that guy at the club. Ouch.

"So you're always honest." Yes, we've established this. She didn't believe me, so I turned it around.

"Aren't you?"

"No. I'm not." Wow. She wasn't afraid to openly admit that she was a liar.

"Well, that's good to know, I guess."

"I'm not saying I'm a liar." I raised my eyebrows. "That's not now I _meant_ it anyway."

"How'd you mean it then?"

"Its just…I don't always say what I feel."

"Why not?" I was truly curious.

"Because the truth hurts."

"Yeah. So do lies."

"I don't…I just don't like to hurt people. Or upset them. So sometimes, you know, I won't say exactly what I think, to spare them that."

She still didn't believe me. She continued to not believe me as I told her that if she'd asked, I'd tell her whether or not her outfit made her look fat. As if that was possible.

"Still straight?"

"Um, no."

"Then…what? Right? Left?" She looked weird and was staring out the window. "What's wrong?"

"That's my sister," she said, nodding towards a car parked on the side of the street.

Annabel's sister was hunched forward and seemed to be crying. "Is…is she OK?"

"No. She's not."

I wondered what was wrong with her, but didn't want to ask. Annabel said she didn't want to stop, and told me to turn right. But then she started the topic again. "She's sick. She has been for awhile now."

"I'm sorry." And I meant it.

Now we were on her street. "Which one?"

"The glass one."

"The glass—Oh. Right." Her house was beautiful. It was all glass in front. I could see Annabel's mother in the kitchen. I could also see the dining and living rooms, and a hallway upstairs. "Man, that's really something."

"People in glass houses," she said, looking at the house. Profound. No idea what she was talking about though. "Well, thanks for the ride. For everything."

"No problem." And it really wasn't.

I saw her sister pull in and go inside, and I saw her mom inside looking at us. Who did she think I was? Would Annabel tell her? And if so, what would she say?

Annabel broke through my thoughts. "So when is it? Your radio show."

"Sundays. At 7."

"I'll listen."

"In the morning." That probably made a difference to her. Most people didn't consider 7am 'morning' on the weekends.

"7 in the _morning_? Really?"

"Yeah. It's not the ideal time slot, but you take what you can get. Insomniacs are listening, at least."

"_Enlightened_ insomniacs."

Wow. I did not expect her to remember that. Or say that. "Yeah. Exactly." I smiled.

"Well, I guess I should go."

"OK. I'll see you around." I hope.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

All that weekend, I thought about Annabel. She intrigued me. And something else.

Rolly and I did the show, (We named the show 'Anger Management' because it saved me. And it expresses life. And it sounds good besides) then went to breakfast, as usual, Rolly talked about the girl who punched him, as usual. I partially zoned out, thinking about Annabel and wondering if she listened.

"Owen, snap out of it!"

"What?"

"Dude, you've been staring blankly at your bacon. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about a girl I met on Friday. I gave her a ride home. She's really cool, and I'm hoping she listened to the show. Her name's Annabel."

"And you like her." Not a question.

"No. I'm hoping I can get to know her."

"The same way I want to get to know _her_."

"I don't think so."

"That's ok. You will."


	9. Chapter 9

**JUST LISTEN—OWEN'S VIEW**

**Chapter 9**

Monday at lunch, I waited for Annabel to start the conversation. When she didn't, I did.

"So. Did you listen?"

At first she evaded telling her opinion so much that I thought she hadn't listened. Then she lied, saying she liked it. Eventually I got her to tell the truth. "I…I didn't like it."

"I knew it! You know, for someone who lies a lot, you're not very good at it."

"I'm not a liar."

"Right. You're nice." Too nice. So nice you get to the point of unhelpfulness, I'll guess.

"What's wrong with nice?"

"Nothing. Except it usually involves not telling the truth."

We talked about the show more. Can you believe she doesn't like techno?! Techno is the best! Well, to each his/her own. ((AN: Personally, I don't like techno))

I decided to put the songs we had discussed into a playlist. I started dragging songs in on my iPod.

Annabel said, uncertainly, "So…you're OK with that?"

"That you didn't like the show?" I moved 'Lipo' into the playlist.

"Yeah."

"Sure. I mean, it would have been cool if you had. But most people don't, so it's not exactly surprising."

"And that doesn't bother you."

"Not really. I mean, at first it was kind of disappointing, but people recover from disappointment. Otherwise we'd all be hanging from nooses, right?"

"What?"

We discussed the sea shanty, but I really didn't get how she didn't like techno. "So you didn't like the techno? Like, not even one aspect?"

"No. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's your opinion. There's no right and wrong in music, you know? Just everything in between."

The bell rang, and I hopped (well, hopped as much as someone as big as me could) off the wall.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah. See you later," I replied.

I headed toward art class, knowing as I did that my charcoal apple today would be worse than normal (which wasn't that good anyway). I had too much to think about. Particularly what Rolly had been saying. I really wanted to get to know Annabel. I really enjoyed talking to her. I'd never looked forward to knowing someone this much. So, did I like her? I didn't know.

The next day, again, I was looking forward to lunch.

END


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

I got to lunch a little late the next day. My History teacher was lecturing me about putting my "best work" into the essay, and how she "knew I could do better." When I got to the wall, I saw Annabel staring worriedly at a piece of paper, probably a note from her lunch box.

"Bad news?"

She jumped. "What?"

"You looked stressed. Something wrong?"

She put the note away and said no. I sat down. I thought maybe she was holding something back. Then again, maybe not. But usually, when someone looks stressed, they are.

"It's just this thing with my mom." More details please… 'Thing' of course, is a placeholder. A serious one. I told her so. She started talking about her modeling. Apparently, she wants to quit. But her mom doesn't want her to quit. So she's not telling her mom.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't do confrontations."

I glanced pointedly at Sophie before looking back to Annabel.

"I don't do confrontations_ well_."

"What happened between you two?"

"Me and Sophie?" Of course. "We had a falling out over the summer." More details… "She thinks I slept with her boyfriend." Ah, that explains it. But wait…

"Did you?" I couldn't imagine that she did. But if she didn't, why doesn't Sophie know that?

"No. I didn't."

"Maybe you should tell her that."

"It's not that simple."

"Huh. Call me crazy, but I'm sensing a theme here."

We clarified. She needs to be honest. For some reason, that's really hard for her. And it is hard. It just takes practice.

"Practice?"

"In Anger Management, we had to do all this role-playing stuff. You know, to get used to handling things in a less volatile way."

"You role-played."

"I had to. It was court-ordered. But I have to say, it was kind of helpful. You know, so that when sand if something similar did happen, you had some kind of road map for dealing with it."

"Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense."

Excellent. Her turn. "All right then. So say I'm your mom." Which is odd. As Rolly thinks I like her. And…I think I might too.

"What?"

"I'm your mom. Now tell me you want to quit modeling."

"I can't do that." Well, at least I'm not the only one who thinks it's weird for a humongous guy her age to be her mom…

"Why not? Is it so hard to believe?" Besides the obvious. "You think I'm not a good role-player?"

"No. It's just--"

"Because I am. _Everyone_ wanted me to be their mother in group." I know, I know, very odd. Supposedly, I'm motherly. Well, being motherly is positive, right?

"I just…Its weird."

"No, it's hard. But not impossible. Just try it."

"Ok. So—"

"Mom"

"What?"

"The more accurate the exercise, the more effective it is. Go all out."

"Ok. Mom."

"Yes?"

We went through most of the conversation, with me correcting her once or twice. But then, right when she was going to tell 'Mom' that she wanted to quit modeling, she couldn't do it. Or wouldn't.

"Look, I'm just going to say this: It's got to suck, you know? Keeping something like that in. Walking around every day having so much you want to say, but not doing it. Its gotta make you really mad. Right?"

She made a stupid excuse and left. She lied to my face. Did I say something wrong? I mentally went over what I said. I didn't think I said anything bad. Oh well. Maybe she really did have to talk to her English teacher. No, it was a lie. But there was probably some other reason she didn't want to stay. Nothing to do with me. I hope not, anyway.


End file.
